"There have been few historical imaginations better informed or more gifted than Alfred Duggan’s" (The New Criterion).
Historian, archaeologist and novelist Alfred Leo Duggan wrote historical fiction and non-fiction about a wide range of subjects, in places and times as diverse as Julius Caesar’s Rome and the Medieval Europe of Thomas Becket.
Although he was born in Argentina, Duggan grew up in England, and was educated at Eton and Balliol College, Oxford. After Oxford, he travelled extensively through Greece and Turkey, visiting almost all the sites later mentioned in his books. In 1935 helped excavate Constantine’s palace in Istanbul.
Duggan came to writing fiction quite late in his life: his first novel about the First Crusade, Knight in Armour, was published in 1950, after which he published at least a book every year until his death in 1964. His fictional works were bestselling page-turners, but thoroughly grounded in meticulous research informed by Duggan’s experience as an archaeologist and historian.
Duggan has been favourably compared to Bernard Cornwell as well as being praised in his own right as "an extremely gifted writer who can move into an unknown period and give it life and immediacy" (New York Times).
Alfred Duggan is one of those authors who veers between genius and tedium. I had the misfortune to start on some of his more tedious ones, but I’m starting to discover the better. It’s hard to tell from the setting which it will be. Duggan was an early practitioner of a focus on character and setting over cheap archetype. While I do find his characters fairly simplistic, they are more than just representatives of virtue or vice. There are things to both admire and condemn in all his characters. And psychologically they make sense.
Where he’s not always great is plot. Even in his best novels I can’t exactly say they were terribly exciting. Things tend to happen pretty slowly and we probably spend more time than needed on each new plot thread. Which is fine so long as the characters and setting are well drawn and interesting. And fortunately, since the fall of the Republic is inherently dramatic, this story works despite intentionally avoiding most of the dramatic moments.
What do I mean by “avoiding most of the dramatic moments”? This story follows Marcus Aemilianus Lepidus, a big player in the final years of the Republic. Specifically, it’s about the second triumvirate he formed with Mark Antony and Octavian to defeat Caesar’s assassins and (ultimately) rule the new empire. If Rome’s civil wars were a trophy case Octavian would have a gold and Antony silver. Lepidus would have one of those little medals labeled “Participant”. He’s a man who somehow rose to the very height of power without really doing anything. He was just in the right place at the right time (with the right army). And so while Antony and Octavian do the fighting and eventually feud with each other Lepidus gets left on the sidelines.
Well that seems a stupid focus for a novel, right? Why focus on the least impressive guy on the world stage at this point? What does that give us? Well a few things. For one, Lepidus’ bewilderment and confusion are actually rather funny. He’s in over his head and distantly senses it, but he has such an inflated view of his own status that he just assumes that he must have earned his success through good blood. Doesn’t everyone of quality get these opportunities?
For another, there’s a surprising amount of pathos in here. Lepidus is treated as a Republican of the old school. He likes the system of competition between senators and the legalistic enforcement of social order. His values are those of the crusty old senators who built the Republic up from nothing. And brought it down to ruin. And while he gets dragged along into some truly deplorable acts he can’t really see himself as a guiding force. He’s just someone who responds to circumstances he really can’t understand. The world has left him behind.
I don’t know if I can say that I truly liked Lepidus. He’s certainly less ruled by ambition than the rest and is generally well intentioned (or at least thinks he is), but he’s also stuffy and if he lacks any real vices he lacks virtues as well. But I did enjoy being inside his head.
Historical fiction told from the POV of a minor or misunderstood historical figure is something of a sub-genre unto itself. I, Claudius is the most famous example. Typically, the author presents the person as more interesting, intelligent, noble, etc. than posterity has accorded him.
That's not what Duggan does here with Lepidus. Anthony and Octavian's minor partner in the second Triumverate not a clever man who was dealt a bad card by fortune. Nor is he an honest and just man who gives witness to the death throes of the Roman Republic. If anything, he's more venal and foolish than the historical record (and previous fictional accounts). The Lepidus of Three's Company is a bungling opportunist who only rises to a position of (largely symbolic) power due to an astute wife, a scheming freedman secretary, and because his patrician bloodlines provided the ruthless tyrants seizing control of Rome with a useful veneer of legitimacy.
Here Lepidus offers up his brother to the proscription (execution) list:
"My brother must die, I see that," put in Lepidus, determined to show himself a clear-sighted realistic tyrant, like the men in the Greek-history books. He must prove his fitness for surpreme power. This was not the code of the ancestors; but then none of his ancestors had been offered a place in a Triumverate.
This approach makes for a curious reading experience. While Three's Company is far from heroic adventure, it doesn't veer all the way into farce. There is a tragedy here, but it isn't the tragedy of good man coming to a bad end. It's a tragedy of naivete, greed, and incompetence, which I take Duggan to mean as the naivete, greed and incompetence of the Roman aristocracy as the old order collapsed. A few admirable minor characters voice their dismay at the fall of the Republic and its virtues, typically immediately before they're slain. But we're left in no doubt that badness has wone the day. And yet it's also very funny.
This sort of novel isn't done anymore. Popular historical fiction today is all tactics and war-porn. The literary stuff self-conscious and slow-paced. Duggan's novels - pulp fiction in format, coolly detached and caustic in style - are a treat for those looking for a different approach to their swords and sandals.
Excellent historical fiction centered on the period after Caesars assassination. It follows Marcus Lepidus of the triumvirate - a figure who is usually not given much attention.
If you know your ancient Roman history then perhaps you will remember that following the assassination of Julius Caesar the assassins and much of the Senate fled to Greece. In the power vacuum that followed three men joined forces to form the second Triumvirate. They were Marc Antony, Octavian Caesar, and Marcus Lepidus. Much is known and remembered about the first two and their showdown for ultimate power at Actium but what about Lepidus? Very little information survives and much of it written down by the victors who would write disparagingly about Lepidus for political reasons. Alfred Duggan does a good job blending what facts we do know about this man's life with a measure of speculative fiction has he tells Lepidus' story from his own point of view. His depiction is that of a very ordinary man struggling to deal with very extraordinary times as the world he grew up in was rapidly transforming into something else. He is portrayed as a very conservative Patrician from an old, wealthy and influential family somewhat bigoted and egotistic. However he quickly backed Julius Caesar and his bid for power and was rewarded for his support. He wasn't quite the incompetent fool that the historians make him out to be; he was a first rate magistrate and proven time and again his ability to administrate and run provinces and even Rome itself while Julius Caesar and later the Antony/Octavian duo marched off to vanquish common foes. He served in the highest offices as Consul in Rome, Governor in Spain, Gaul and Africa, and as Pontifex Maximus head of the pagan Roman religion. He was also a skilled negotiator, especially when serving with Julius Caesar. His failings mostly came out when he was placed outside of his comfort zone. He was a mediocre general at best and his troops would often defect to the other side when facing other Romans. Politically he seemed incredibly blind to the changes happening all around him and it would seem that much of his successes went to his head and led to some really bad decisions. Duggan portrays his wife as his political advisor whose advice was often astute and correct. He usually listened to her and his bad choices generally occurred when they were apart. In the era of the Roman Republic he may well have been rated a minor success but in the destruction of the Republic and the advent of the Imperial era he is depicted as an obsolete nuisance. Duggan does a credible job of following the hard facts as we know them but so much of Lepidus' life is such a mystery that there is plenty of room for poetic license. Still for me it rings true to a certain extent and it was an enjoyable read about a historical figure we know so little about.
A classic historical fiction tale of Lepidus, the third (often overlooked) triumvir. Calpurnia and Clodia made for interesting characters, and I really wish there had been more of them. Lepidus comes across as tragic more than anything. Despite its age, this one does remain a page-turner!
This book was a gift from a friend and it turned out to be a pleasant surprise. It was great that the author focused on Marcus Lepidus of the Second Triumvirate because it gave the reader on a different outlook of the war between Octavian and Mark Anthony. I also learned a great deal about the Sicilian rebellion led by Sextus Pompey. This was possibly the best novel I have read so far this year. Of course, the year is young!